


Complementary

by Siriex



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-10-27 22:03:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17775032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriex/pseuds/Siriex
Summary: Enkidu never expected to develop a soul mark. They’d been forgotten by the world as a child, standing still as society sped past.





	1. Dissolution

**Author's Note:**

> Another instance of me posting the first part of a thing to motivate me to finish it.
> 
> EDIT: Here are some very late character designs: http://letalisotium.tumblr.com/post/183881475693/finished-my-gilkidu-soulmate-au-fanfic-last-night

Shamhat broke up with Enkidu on a Tuesday. She did so as they lay in bed, still tucked in the afterglow.

Enkidu was not surprised.

They’d known from how her fingertips lingered at the point between their shoulder blades; somewhere she’d never shown interest in before. They did not mention it.

After they were showered and dressed, they settled at the table for a simple breakfast of toast, sausage, and eggs. They were down to the last crumbs when Shamhat broke the silence. “You don’t have to move out.”

“I know.” They’d discussed contingency plans when they’d signed the lease.

“I still love you. I just don’t want to tie you down.”

Enkidu smiled, and picked up their plates. “I know. I would have done the same for you.”

“And that’s why I love you,” Shamhat said, voice soft. “I need to get ready for work. I’ll be back around six today if you’d like to take a picture of your mark for one of those matching sites.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Heeled footsteps tapped through the hallway, and the front door to their shared apartment swung shut as Enkidu sunk their arms to the elbows in dish suds. They swallowed down the lump in their throat, and started scrubbing.

Enkidu was generally scheduled at their doggy daycare for the latter half of the week, and ran errands on Mondays when necessary. They had no particular plans for the day. They’d bemoaned their boredom the night before, snuggling into Shamhat’s collar bones. Now the quiet was a relief. They stole into their room and slipped their high school yearbooks from the top shelf of their shared closet.

Pictures of them dotted their pages, stretching all the way back to the second grade when two harried foster parents hurled Enkidu into the hectic world of public schooling. They spent hours looking over each one, finally settling on a full-color shot from their senior year of high school. They sat side-by-side, eyes pinched shut from laughter. Their hair was slung over their shoulders- Enkidu’s right, and Shamhat’s left. Ere’d woven it into a single braid, green and brown mingling but never quite mixing. They’d been dating three years by then. Three years out from a conversation about endings.

Enkidu never expected to develop a soul mark. They’d been forgotten by the world as a child, standing still as society sped past. Even after Shamhat reached out of that stream and pulled them back in, they couldn’t shake the sensation of running out of sync.

When they made that promise with Shamhat, they never expected she’d be the one to keep it.

At two in the afternoon, they slotted each year book back into its proper place, and plucked one of Shamhat’s hand mirrors from the bathroom.

A full length mirror served as the main door for Shamhat’s closet. She spent at least ten minutes in front of it every day. Her job as a hostess at the local gentlemen’s club demanded the best of her appearance. They positioned themselves in front of the mirror, set the hand mirror aside, and sloughed their dress over their head, leaving their back bare. It took minimal maneuvering to brace the hand mirror just-so. They caught sight of something colorful in their periphery, and closed their eyes to steady themself.

They’d only seen a soulmark up close once before; it was considered rude to stare if yours was not a match. When they were nine, a classmate invited them to her birthday sleepover. They’d arranged their sleeping bags in a star, heads facing inwards, and Sita’d held out her hand. A lightning bolt of fire shot from her fingernail to her wrist, connected to a ring of gold about her wrist.

She’d been an early bloomer.

The mark on Enkidu’s back was just as vivid. It was a red stitch, darting between their shoulder blades, and ending in a hook at their tips. The dozen articles Sita’d read aloud described red as a fiery personality. Assertive. Head-strong. Likely a handful. Some thrill sparked under their skin, dulled like the rest of their emotions.

Their portion of the mark was not red, though Shamhat had joked about it in the past. They had to strain their eyes to see it against their skin. Three green-grey squashed ovals, hanging from the hook. A calming influence, Sita’d said. Enkidu could have laughed. Their soulmate must have been _something_ if _they_ were supposed to provide balance.

It was a wonder Shamhat hadn’t cut and run when she’d seen it.

They snatched their dress up, and slipped it back on. Bright red where they’d always expected nothing. Their head hurt, so they crawled into bed, and waited for Shamhat to return.

\--

There were no pictures of red and green marks on any of the relevant websites. Gilgamesh knew this not because he’d looked, but because everyone else had.

He had never once been ashamed of his body. Through superior genetics, and a careful diet and training regimen, he maintained a regular shirtless rotation through most popular magazines on the surface of the earth.

It was a make up artist that first noted the mark. She’d been making the usual circuit, looking for blemishes he knew she would not find, when she paused at his back.

“Would you like to cover it up?”

“Cover _what_ up?” he’d demanded.

“The mark.”

He flexed. No pain indicating an injury, and dirt was out of the question. He had tattoos, but those were common knowledge. He’d never covered them in any previous shoot. Make up knew not to ask.

Marks did not appear out of the blue, with one exception.

The artist reached for the foundation. “Who is she? You’ve never mentioned her.”

The lights bit his eyes, and there would only be more from now on. No sense in prolonging this conversation. There was no time for idle conversation in his schedule. He motioned for her to move on, and closed his eyes. Whatever it was would show up in the photographs. He could examine it then.

After the lights were dimmed and his shirt was returned, the photographer flagged him down. He rarely looked at the shots. There was no reason to believe that they would be anything but perfect. A monkey was more than sufficient; such was his glory. But the make up artist’s comments caught his attention, and the photographer wished to consult him about something on his back.

There, at the widest part of his shoulders, was sharp red and soft green.

“Do you want me to edit this?”

It was a reasonable question. His name rang out to every corner of the world, echoing back and forth. A mark like that would be everywhere within hours. They would hunt down its match within the day. The attention would likely not affect his life; it was a circus from dawn until dusk. But he would be throwing someone else to the sharks.

Someone they’d call his soulmate.

Gilgamesh did not believe in soulmates. Not for him.

He flicked his hand, and stalked off.

Approval.

\--

Tiné Chelc was twenty-two years old, and way over her head. The phone calls kept coming, rings bleeding into one-another until she knew she’d be hearing phantom call centers for the rest of the week.

It was normally bone-dead silent up here. Not because there was no demand for her boss; there was always demand for her boss. That was precisely why he’d set up no less than ten people calls had to pass through before reaching his personal phone.

Tiné’d asked on more than one occasion why he’d picked someone as inexperienced as her to be his last line of defense. He’d laughed as loud as the ringing phones, and told her that he liked her ambition. Apparently that was reason enough.

By now she’d sunk into the rhythm of it. Pick up the phone. Cut off the person on the other end. “Mr. Gilgamesh has no comment at this time.” Hang up the phone. Pick up the phone.

Her voice was raw by the time the clock struck five. Her personal cell shook an alarm she’d set in a rare moment of peace, and she set the phone to send any further calls to voicemail. The room went silent, though the echo lingered. She heaved a sigh of abject relief.

Living in the city was far too expensive for her, even with the frankly ridiculous amount that Gilgamesh paid her. It would be a full hour and a half until she stepped off the bus and into her apartment. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately), she hadn’t had time to eat her lunch. She leaned down dragged her salad out of the mini-fridge tucked under her desk. Two minutes into her now-dinner, the knob of her office door made vicious contact with the wall.

Tiné tottered to her feet, swiping the salad behind her computer monitor. “Mr. Gilgamesh! I thought that you’d gone home for the day.”

“Hardly.” He glanced at the blinking light on her phone. It already flashed the angry red of a full inbox. He raised an eyebrow. “Scavengers, scrambling like ants for a meal. You have done well today, Tiné. I permit you to go home and rest. Your struggle will resume tomorrow.”

There was relief in his approval. She pushed down her hunger and packed the remains of her salad into her lunch bag. She knew a dismissal when she heard one. Despite his kind words, his bearing betrayed his irritation.

Footsteps paused, and Tiné jumped at the return of his voice.

“You may ask. I will permit it.”

She did not want to ask. She was curious, just as the callers were, but more than that she wanted to go home. He would do this sometimes. Her mother always said that it was lonely at the top, and while she was long gone, her words held true. This was not a favor for her; it was a request from him.

Tiné was nothing if not diligent. “Do you really have a soul mark?”

Gilgamesh scoffed. “Does such a thing really concern you? I’d thought you above those trifles, Tiné. But yes. I suppose that that is the only explanation.”

“Are you going to look for them?” she asked, strained like pulling teeth.

“No. Why would _I_ need something like _that?_ ”

Tiné knew that it was not a rhetorical question. She lowered her head with due respect. “I can’t imagine why.”

“As I thought. Take this opportunity to recoup your energy. Siduri is preparing a statement on the matter, and I will need you to convey it to our callers tomorrow.” The door to his office clicked shut, signaling his departure.

Tiné spared a thought for the stranger with the matching mark, and packed her things. She pitied them, whoever they were.

\--

Gilgamesh’s magazine spread was omnipresent. Picture licenses sold for millions within hours of its release, and soon the image dotted Facebook and Twitter. Gilgamesh himself appeared on television four days later, dressed in a hideous leopard sport coat to discuss it.

He spoke at length about his company. They’d dipped their hands in every industry, and had new products in each one. He only addressed the mark once, and only to say that he had no intention of finding its match. It was the only portion of the interview that made it to air.

“As customary for celebrities’ unmatched soul marks, small details of the mark were modified before the pictures were released. Several hundred people have come forward claiming to have the matching mark, but all were determined to be fakes. We will keep you informed as updates come in.”

Shamhat paused the video, and looked to Enkidu. They were picking stray fur from their polo shirt.

“What do you think?”

They brushed at their sleeve, trying to knock more off to no avail. “About what?”

“About his mark.”

“What about it?”

The oven buzzed. Shamhat glided over, and slipped their bear-paw oven mitts over her delicate hands. “Don’t you think that his mark looks like yours?”

Silence.

Shamhat turned, pan full of well-seasoned chicken in hand. The smell drew Enkidu’s attention. They jumped from their chair and rushed to the cupboard to grab plates. She set the pan on the stovetop, and cocked an eyebrow. “Have you looked at it?”

They settled two plates at the table. “He’s like… Your boss’s boss’s boss, right?”

“I’m sure that he’s yours too, if you trace it far enough back. He owns half the city.”  

Enkidu hummed. They spent most of dinner soaked in silence. Gilgamesh’s image smirked out at them from Shamhat’s laptop.

Neither of them mentioned it for the next week.

\--

It took a full month for the phones to return to their regular pace. Tiné made eye contact with Siduri from across the room as she reached for her mini fridge. She smiled and nodded, wiggling her phone against her cheek. Tiné waved and dug into her mini-fridge. Today’s lunch was another salad, and a large can of iced tea. She popped open the tab and took a long drink.

Their boss’s laughter carried through the doorway.

Siduri tucked her phone into its cradle, and held her hand above it. When it did not ring immediately she let out a sigh.  “Don’t you think that he’s been acting a little strange lately?”

Tiné looked up, fork halfway to her mouth. She nodded.

“I think it’s the soul mark,” Siduri continued, cupping her chin in her hand. “I didn’t think that it would bother him this much, but he has been more tense than usual. I accompanied him to a photoshoot the other day, and he asked them to cover it. It is almost as if he’s become self-conscious.”

Tiné glanced at the office door. The same laughter. He was on the phone with another international mogul named Ozymandias- one of the few people he spoke to for pleasure. He would not be done any time soon. She slunk over to Siduri’s desk and lowered her voice. “Do you think that he doesn’t want to find them?”

Siduri pressed a finger to her lips, half thought, half warning. “I think that he’s scared.”

“Of what?”

“Change.”

Tiné returned to her desk after that.

\--

Deep red lipstick painted Shamhat’s lips along the rim of her second glass of wine. She swirled it through the air, and men’s eyes followed its circuitous path. Ordinarily her make up would be gone by now, stripped away with a wipe before yoga. Today she’d been greeted by a piece of paper informing her that the instructor was out sick, and the studio closed.

Hence the bar.

“I’m glad that it’s finally died down. Have you been screening all of them yourself?”

Siduri blinked into her ale, watching the soft rim of bubbles brushed against her glass. She’d found Shamhat dumbfounded at the door. It was already an alcohol kind of night, and misery loved company. “Everyone wants his money,” Siduri opined. “They think that if they’re his soulmate, he’ll give it to them.”

Shamhat raised an eyebrow.

“He won’t,” Siduri clarified.

“After everything you’ve told me, I never expected any less. He sounds like a terror.” The bartender passed a drink to her, and cocked his head down the bar to a smiling man. She lifted the drink, nodded, and placed it in front of Siduri. “It seems to me that his soulmate has the right idea; not coming forward.”

Someone by the registers tapped a button, and the music hopped louder. Siduri leaned closer. “I suppose that’s why they’re his soulmate. They know well enough to avoid him.”

Shamhat crossed her arms over the countertop, and eyes the bottles. Her drink sat unattended. “What do you think would happen if they did seek him out?”

“He would drive them away most likely. As viciously as he could. I would try to stop him of course, but I doubt that anything I could do would be of much use. He is quite possibly the most stubborn person that I know. And he has enough lawyers to do just about anything.”

“And he would do that. To his soulmate.”

Siduri rolled a nod. Took another drink.

The music swelled again. Siduri dug out her wallet. “Normally you don’t ask about this kind of thing.”

“What!?” Shamhat pressed a hand against her ear, and fished a few bills out of her bag with the other.

“Normally you don’t ask!”

More yelling from every angle, a hundred conversations trying to shout up over the music. Shamhat pushed her cash across the bar and threw on her coat.

Siduri followed.

The night air brought quiet, past the range of prying ears. Shamhat fished for her phone. “I want you to look at something for me.”

“You found them.” It wasn’t a question.

Shamhat passed her her phone. It showed a picture of someone’s back, cut off at the waist and neck with a bright mark in the center.

Siduri cradled the screen in her hands. “Where did you get this?”

“They asked me to take it. They wanted to get a better look at the mark. Is this the right one?”

“No wonder you were curious.” Siduri stretched the image, until the mark filled the screen entirely. Bright red, soft green. “This is his. Whoever has this mark is his soulmate.” She locked the phone and passed it back. “Are you going to tell them?”

“I don’t want them to get hurt,” Shamhat replied.  “They are my best friend. Though I promised them I would tell them if I ever found out.” A text message dropped from the top of the screen. Enkidu. “I should go.”

Siduri sighed. “It is complicated. Just please warn me if you tell your friend. I don’t know how Gilgamesh will handle it if they meet, but I’d rather be prepared than not.”


	2. Deliberation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a chance encounter, Enkidu makes a decision.

Dinner was Chinese take-out. Enkidu commented on the smell of alcohol and Shamhat’s early return, but was otherwise distracted. They ate directly from the containers, while she scooped stir-fried vegetables and rice onto a miss-matched plate.

Small talk passed the time between bites. There were several new dogs at the daycare, and Enkidu recounted how one made a habit of chewing on their hair. They found it endearing. Shamhat narrowed her eyes in suspicion at the knots apparent in their ponytail.

Enkidu was hardly the picture of perfection. They were beautiful, without a doubt; Shamhat was proud of her appearance, and Enkidu’d been mistaken for her twin on more than one occasion. Were it not for their hair and her figure, they might have been indistinguishable. But they’d let their hair grow wild, just like their eyes. The forest never left them.

In their rare encounters, Siduri spoke of Gilgamesh. He was exactly as he seemed from his television appearances. Nary a hair out of place, and all the elegance of a model. She told her about his temper; the worst-kept secret of the entertainment industry.

At least Enkidu and Gilgamesh had that in common.

It was not comforting.

“You’re not eating a lot,” Enkidu observed. They pulled another container close and popped it open. “Even though this is your favorite.”

Shamhat tucked her chin into her palm and traced condensation across the tabletop. Her phone sat heavy in her pocket like a secret. “What do you think about Gilgamesh?”

Enkidu perked up, noodles dangling from their mouth. “The one from the video?” There was not any other. They hummed, swallowing down their current mouthful. “But he’s kind of an ass, right? Makes me want to punch him. Except I know he’d like try to sue me or something, but joke’s on him because I don’t have any money.” They puffed up in misbegotten pride. The levity did not last. They pushed their container away, and leveled their gaze with hers, soft as if she was the one in trouble. “This is about my mark. It’s him, isn’t it?”

There was no sense in denying it now. Despite their eccentricities, Enkidu was sharp as a blade. “Yes.”

Silence fell over cooling food.

That night, Enkidu huddled close to her side. Neither brought it up in the morning.

\---

Soulmates.

With _Gilgamesh_.

He’d drifted in and out of the spotlight for decades now, never closer than the corner of Enkidu’s eye. They’d made no effort to keep track of celebrities or trends. Everything they knew came second-hand through Shamhat, and what she said did not give them any desire to learn more.

That was before the mark.

In the early mornings when Shamhat was not looking, they tucked themself into a kitchen corner and tapped at their phone. Google Images was a sea of blonde hair and tanned skin that made their cheeks burn hot and adrenaline spike. They closed the tab almost immediately.

Weeks passed drifting through his Wikipedia, skimming some sections only to circle back later.

Soulmates were sweet, soft things. Someone to hold you close at night and fill in your cracks. But no matter how pretty his face was, Enkidu just couldn’t see it. They paused their fifth video and snatched an apple off the counter.

Every once in a while, Shamhat took them to the movies. They were not fond of the experience. The space was dark, loud, and crowded, and the smell of popcorn was overpowering. But she loved rom coms, and they loved her, so they tolerated it.

Movies had a very particular view on soulmates. If they were to be believed, once Enkidu saw Gilgamesh the world would stop. Their eyes would lock and the music would swell, and they’d fall into each others’ arms just like that.

Enkidu did not believe in rom coms. They believed in emotions building over time, strengthened with patience. The tears they’d shed in Shamhat’s arms. The nightmares they helped her through.

That said, the concept had a certain appeal.

Saturday saw Enkidu leaving work early, shedding fur. The four dogs they’d been watching were regulars, and relatively low-maintenance, leaving Enkidu with plenty of time on their hands for thinking. Plenty of time for huddling up in a pile of fluff and contemplating the colors on their skin.

Restless, they started to walk. The buildings grew in height and frequency the further they went. There was a convenience store crammed in the first floor of one of the larger buildings in the city. They could buy dinner there and catch a train back to their apartment.

Setting sunlight bounced into their eyes, and they pressed their arm to their forehead, trying to give their sight a little shade to work in. The building perched across the intersection stabbed up into the sky in a tour of crystalline glass. Enkidu looked up and up until their balance wavered.

Shortly after construction was finished, Shamhat told them that it was the tallest building in the country by a large margin. The owner had insisted upon it.

Gilgamesh again.

There was a penthouse at the top worth more than Enkidu could earn in several lifetimes. They wondered if he was up there now with his brow furled like theirs. They could walk inside right now, speak to the receptionist, and show her their back. Maybe she would let them up. In just a few minutes they could be standing eye to eye with their ‘other half.’

The cross lights trilled, signaling that it was safe to walk.

Enkidu brushed off the feeling and turned back the way they’d come.

\--

Gilgamesh felt a distant tug in his chest. He ignored it.

It did not happen again.

\--

When Shamhat started working at the gentlemen’s club, she’d been nervous. It started as a matter of practicality; she’d been laid off from her previous job, and Enkidu’s salary could not cover rent on its own. A friend offered her the position, and she’d taken it.

She had the kind of figure that drew attention. While she did not revel in it, she told Enkidu it would be foolish not to use it. So Enkidu offered to accompany her to work at least once a week. They stayed through closing, and waited out back for an additional thirty minutes until her shift was over to take her home.

Time made quick work of Shamhat’s nerves, but Enkidu still tried to drop by at least once every two months. They spent most visits at the bar, engaged in light conversation with the employees while nursing a bottle.

Most of the girls had soul marks. Enkidu only knew because they’d seen them after-hours when the foundation washed away. Shamhat said they had to hide them for work. That they “ruined the illusion.” Enkidu had never understood until they saw the pain in Shamhat’s eyes on their final morning.

Tonight’s bouncer was Sigma; a quiet man with a young face and an old soul. Enkidu reached into their wallet for their ID. Sigma shook his head and waved them through. They gestured their appreciation and slipped into the club.

Music pounded in their pulse. They tucked their shoulders up to their ears to muffle the noise. Shamhat was not standing in the light of the stage, which meant that she was preparing for or recovering from a performance, or entertaining a customer. They slunk to the bar. Richard was working tonight. He tossed them a grin and pulled out a glass. “The usual?” Mood lighting reflected off his earrings.

Enkidu accepted the beer without comment.

Richard frowned. “I heard about you and Shamhat. Real shame. You two were great together.”

Enkidu gulped down half their glass and forced a grin. The motions were familiar.

“That bad, huh?” He slid a glass of water to join their drink.

Enkidu’s smile dropped from their eyes, but not their face. They took a careful sip of the water. “How’s the band?”

Richard clutched at his chest and staggered back. “Ouch- Who told you?”

“No one needed to. That was the fourth group you’ve been through.”

“You are vicious.” Richard groaned. “Have mercy- it’s been a rough night and it’s only 10.”

“I only do it because I know you can handle it,” Enkidu noted, eyes crinkling. “And how has it been rough? Did you get shot down again? Shamhat told you that neither the men or the women who come here are looking for a relationship.”

“Normally I’d tell you that not everyone just gets love falling into their lap like you, but tonight I’ll let it slide.” Someone cleared their throat from across the bar, loud like a shot. Richard straightened back and cracked his neck. “Customer. You good?”

Enkidu rolled their glass in confirmation and followed his braid snapping down the bar.

Weeknights were quiet at the club, and the bar was not a popular place to sit at the best of times.  There were other ways to acquire alcohol that were closer to the action. Enkidu’d expected to be the only patron, but they were mistaken.

Richard’s other customer was dressed a little nicer than they’d come to expect… In a manner of speaking. Enkidu had no first-hand expertise in fashion, but they saw enough from Shamhat to know that there were some things you did not do.

The first rule was that you did not wear excessive amounts of animal print (much to their chagrin).

The second was that crop-tops and formal wear did not mix.

The third-

Whatever the third was was lost to them because _shit_ they recognized those abs. “Richard?”

“Little busy right now, En!”

Sweat chipped at their neck. “Where’s Shamhat?”

“En, I really can’t,“

Enkidu pushed back from the bar, leaving both their glasses behind. Their heart punched their ribcage. They could feel its echoes in their fingertips. Why here? Why _now?_ Something shaky clung to their throat.

A hand cupped their shoulder, yanking them back and around. Their fist arced up. They were staring back into Sigma’s dim eyes. He glanced their frozen fist, and they dropped it to their side.

Their eyes twitched to hem of the hideous jacket across the bar and back. Sigma grabbed their jaw and forced their head around to look at him. “Time to go home.” Protest shook their lips, but Sigma held firm. “Shamhat’s words.”

Enkidu forced a nod.

“Good.” Sigma withdrew and faded back into the crowd.

Speakers crackled over the music, announcing Shamhat’s stage name. All eyes turned to the there, but Enkidu swore they could feel a pair on their back as they left.

\--

At two in the morning Shamhat slipped into the seat across the kitchen table. She eyed Enkidu’s cup of coffee. “I paid your tab,” she informed them, as if that was what kept them awake.

They nudged the vase in the center of the table. A bill was pinned under it- enough to cover their drink and a tip. They tucked their coffee in their hands, drink long cold.

“You haven’t regressed like that since middle school.”

Enkidu’s head snapped up, indignance painted across their face. “I didn’t,”

“I talked to Sigma.” Shamhat raised her eyebrow. “You tried to attack him.”

Bright red cheeks puffed out, and Enkidu pushed back from the table. “But I didn’t.”

“But you tried.”  

Enkidu’s face drew tight.

“I know that Gilgamesh being there was a surprise. I didn’t learn about it until the last minute either. If you don’t want to talk to him, I won’t make you. I won’t judge you either. From everything that I’ve heard, he is a horrible person. It might be best if you try to avoid him so you don’t cause a scene like you almost did tonight.” Shamhat slipped her earrings out, and tucked them into her hand. “But there’s no guarantee you can avoid him forever. He might show up again without warning. It might be better if you meet him on your own terms.”

Enkidu picked up their cup of cold coffee, and dumped it into the sink. They watched it swirl down the drain. Tried to ignore the phantom feeling of eyes on their back. “Who have you talked to?”

“Richard.” Shamhat’s words were stretched by a yawn. “And one of his assistants. She has been working for him for five years.”

They deposited the empty mug in the dishwasher, and locked it closed. “Can you tell me what they said?”

“Of course.”

\--

Two minutes before six in the morning, Siduri woke to a text message on her phone. She switched off her alarm. The message was from Shamhat.

It only took five words to ruin her morning:

_They want to meet him._

Siduri carried the knowledge with her through her commute, looking for some semblance of a plan.

She was still looking over her calendar when Gilgamesh stomped in a full thirty minutes earlier than normal. Tiné’s startled greeting drew her out of her stupor. “Good morning, sir.”

His eyes snapped to her. She braced herself.

“Get me last night’s security footage from 10:15pm at our club on North Boulevard.”

“Sir?”

His door slammed behind him. Shamhat looked across the room where she saw her surprise mirrored on Tiné’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the incredibly kind comments! I want you all to know that I read every single one of them, and I'm absolutely floored by your kindness. I'm honestly writing by the seat of my pants, but I'll do my best to make this an enjoyable story!


	3. Scrutiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilgamesh does some digging, and Shamhat and Siduri are working behind the scenes.

Gilgamesh glanced at his phone, fingertips pressed against his temples to crush an impending headache. He had not slept well the night before.

The club was not his usual fare. It was a little lower-class than he liked, and certainly more crowded. His visit should have been a business trip and nothing more. The women were adequate, and the music acceptable. The bartender was too familiar for his tastes, but that could be corrected. He’d suffered through a full minute of conversation before another customer stole his attention away.

Gilgamesh was grateful enough to spare them a glance.

They’d sat far enough that their face and upper body were obscured by one of the taller menus. From what he could see, their hair was longer than any sane human could stand, and their simple knit tunic was out of place among the customers milling about the floor. The bartender spoke as if he knew them. A regular then- all the stranger that they seemed out of sync with the rest of the clientele.

Perhaps he’d linger a little longer.

He flagged the bartender down. He dawdled with the other customer a moment too long, and Gilgamesh drew another black mark against his name. What was it again? He hadn’t bothered to ask.

A voice broke over the music. Gilgamesh’s attention followed. The soft haze of alcohol that was sinking into his senses dulled his irritation and something else hiding just under it. He bared his teeth against the tug.

The bartender was yelling back in short bursts.

He thought he heard him say “En.”

This behavior was unacceptable. He braced his hand against the bar and his rising annoyance.

The strange customer’s face slipped past the menu, and they raised their fist. Long lashes and delicate features. Violence drawn in every line of their body. Words died on his tongue.

Something clicked into place in his chest, warm and empty all at once.

Momentarily stunned, he did not see the moment the stranger melted into the crowd, but he felt it. That ring of something that surfaced inside him turned cold. He ripped his eyes back to his drink, and downed the dregs.

He had several more before he returned home.

Whatever this new feeling was, it was somewhere that alcohol couldn’t reach. Even after fitful sleep the feeling has not faded.

Gilgamesh was no fool. He’d heard of this feeling before. Ozymandias had described it in excruciating detail three years before when he met his wife. Apparently, the feeling faded once the “bond” was “complete.” It varied for each pair. Sometimes it was sight. Other times it was touch. For Ozymandias and Nefertari was their first two-sided conversation. It was nearly two weeks before she got a word in edge-wise.

Ozymandias was enamored with the idea of soulmates. When he’d heard the news about Gilgamesh’s mark, he’d called his personal cell with a tidal wave of advice. He’d ignored it at the time.

If he wanted to rid himself of the chill haunting his sleep, he would need to meet them. Once the “bond” was complete, and the feeling was gone, he could distance himself from the undoubtedly unworthy cur.

A notification pulled his attention back to his computer. Tiné had gotten her hands on the video he’d requested.

By the time that the footage cut in, They were already sitting at the bar. They looked a little less out of place in the grainy footage, though only just. The camera was at their back, but the same thrill he’d felt upon seeing their face crept up his spine.

A grainy imitation of his hand lifted to the right of the frame, and the bartender passed along some parting remarks as he slid down the bar. The stranger followed his movements. He got the barest glimpse of their profile.

Gilgamesh leaned in closer.

Something caught their eye, and they went stiff. He paused the video and traced their gaze from the tip of their nose to his body. His face should not have been visible, but the way they recoiled suggested that they’d seen _something_. They moved away from the bar, eyes fixed in his direction.

They had seen him. They had seen him and recognized him and they said nothing. Worse than that- they had decided to _leave_.

Irritation sparked into full-blown anger. Who would not want _him_ as their soulmate? They should have burst into tears of joy the moment they recognized him. They should have rushed to him, but instead they tried to run away!

He waited until their confrontation with the bouncer and snatched a screenshot of their face. That image went into an email. He would have a name within the hour.

That done, he rewound the video and set it to play again, watching the stranger with gritted teeth.

\--

Their name was Enkidu.

Their name was Enkidu, and there was no evidence that they’d existed before the second grade. There were no records of registration for first grade, kindergarten, or preschool. No pictures or posts. Not even a birth certificate.

The earliest evidence of their existence was a post on their mother’s Facebook page. It came with a series of pictures of a beaming woman holding a child in her arms. The child, Enkidu, was not smiling. The whites of their eyes ringed their irises, wide with something between wonder and fear.

The text of the post was short. “Enkidu’s first day home!”

More recent information was easier to find. School news articles boasting of Enkidu’s athletic achievements drew a line from elementary through high school. Their grinning face appeared on the volunteer page of more than one animal shelter.

It was as if they’d materialized as a seven-year-old.

Gilgamesh huffed and reached for the report he’d had Dumas draw up. As horrid as that man’s personality was, his ability to find information was second to none.

The manila folder held only two sheets of paper. The first was a delayed certificate of birth, filed the year of Enkidu’s adoption. Almost all the information, including the parents’ names and date of birth, was listed as “unknown.” He clicked his tongue and moved to the second sheet. It came with an obnoxious yellow post-it with a cramped message about sealed court records.

The article was an obvious consolation prize. He peeled the note away and began to read.

\--

“Your friend’s name is Enkidu.”

Shamhat leaned back from her locker to get a better look at Siduri. “Yes. I was hoping that we’d have little more time before he found them, but I guess it can’t be helped after the club.”

Siduri tested the straps securing her yoga mat in a compact roll. “I was not expecting him to be this interested. I am not sure what he saw in that video, but whatever it is lit a fire under him. I am getting worried that he could try to confront them any day now. He seems… upset.”

“Does he have time for that?” Shamhat asked. She had practice keeping her voice calm, but her fingers were twitching for her phone. It was her day off, and she’d coordinated with Siduri to attend the early afternoon class for a change. Enkidu was at work and would be for another four hours. With Gilgamesh’s connections, it would be easy to figure out where they were.

Siduri shook her head. “He will make time if he wants to. I am worried that he will.” Everything packed, she slung her bag and her mat over her shoulder and settled on the bench. “But I thought that they wanted to meet him.”

“On their own terms,” Shamhat interjected. “They reacted badly when they saw him before. I’d rather that they had a little warning.” Things gathered, she moved to leave with Siduri in her wake.

They fell silent until they left the studio. The streets were busy, and Siduri caught her fingers around Shamhat’s wrist to keep from being separated. She led her down a block into a residential area, where foot traffic was minimal. “What happened before they were adopted?”

Shamhat’s smile dropped from her lips. “He’s already looked that far into it?”

“Far enough,” Siduri confirmed. “It is probably only a matter of time until he finds a way to get into the sealed records. He asked one of his employees to run a thorough background check on them, and ever since he received it, he’s been acting strange.” She paused. “Or rather… Stranger. He has told me a little about it, but I’m not sure that he knows what he is getting into. You have known them for a long time, right?”

Shamhat shook her head. “They don’t talk about it, and I try not to bring it up. It would be better to ask them directly. They may tell Gilgamesh in the unlikely event that things go well… But I would like to be there when they meet.” Her smile grew wry. “Even now, I’m the majority of their impulse control.”

Siduri nodded. “I will try to make sure that he does not show up without warning again, but there is only so much I can do. To say he’s ‘fickle’ would be an understatement. I’d suggest you try to set up a meeting with him as soon as possible. I can help.”

“I’ll speak to them tonight.” Shamhat assured her.

\--

The outfit that Enkidu settled on was nice for a given value of the word. The hems of their jeans were intact, and today’s tunic had a black and gold rope belt that tied around the middle to accentuate their waist. When she caught them turning around in the mirror, Shamhat pulled out a golden clip and clipped their hair up out of their face.  

The clip reflected the city sunlight as Enkidu bounced on the balls of their feet on the train platform, looking everywhere and nowhere in particular. “Are you sure this is okay? I can really meet him?”

Shamhat grabbed their wrist and tried to hold them still. The effort was largely futile. “You seem awfully excited about this. Even though you’ve been brooding for the past few weeks. I hope that you aren’t planning something.”

Enkidu turned their innocent grey eyes on her. “’Planning something’?”

The train’s rumble breached hearing, and Shamhat loosened her grip on their wrist. She’d spent more than enough time around them to know when they were lying, and they were not now. She couldn’t decide if that was comforting.

It was a twenty-minute trip to the restaurant. Siduri had reserved two tables; one for Gilgamesh and Enkidu, and another for their ‘babysitters.’ (Shamhat had coined the nickname, sending Siduri into peals of laughter.)

Shamhat spent most of the ride trying to coach Enkidu through table manners, while they kicked their feet and watched the scenery roll past. When the tinny voice announced their stop was coming next. Enkidu’s fidgeting drew to an abrupt close. Their eyes darted up to the name of the stop scrolling across the LED display.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Shamhat reassured them. “I can come up with some kind of excuse.”

Enkidu’s lips tucked up in a smile that evaporated in a moment. They looked down at their lap, cataloguing the fibers of their best pair of jeans, and bumped their shoulder against hers. “Even after it starts, right?”

“Yes. Just use the signal we decided on earlier.”

“You’ll stop me if I try to deck him, right?”

“Of course. Why else do you think I’m coming with you?”

The smile flickered back onto Enkidu’s lips. They squeezed her hand. “Where would I be without you?”

“Jail,” Shamhat replied with no hesitation.

Enkidu buried a laugh in her shoulder. The train pulled into the station, and she led them to their feet. It was another ten minutes of walking until they arrived at the restaurant. She hoped they’d keep that smile the whole way.

\--

Gilgamesh was not nervous. People like Gilgamesh did not _get_ nervous. Unfortunately, no amount of self-assurance could stop the way his toe tapped against the padded carpet. A server tip-toped by, and he snapped his fingers to catch her attention.

Moment later, he had a second glass of wine.

Siduri cleared her throat. “Don’t you think that you should slow down? There is still ten minutes until they are supposed to arrive.”

“I am fine.”

“You are not.”

Gilgamesh glared, but Siduri showed no sign of flinching or backing down. It carried for a few additional seconds before he broke it. “It is hardly an important meeting.”

“They are your soulmate.” Siduri reminded him.

He clicked his tongue and turned his attention back to his wine. She’d sprung this lunch on him in a moment of weakness. It had not been his idea, though she’d presented it that way. She’d told him that his schedule had opened up around lunch that Wednesday, so why didn’t he try meeting this ‘Enkidu?’ She would deal with all of the logistics. He would not have to lift a finger.

And, damn it all, he’d said “yes.”

Now, every time the front door opened, he fought to keep his eyes fixed on his wine. Siduri’d taken one look at his outfit that morning and forced a pair of black slacks and a blue button down into his hands. It suited him because of _course_ it did, but the fabric itched against his leg like thoughts itched at his mind.

 “Excuse me, Mr. Gilgamesh?”

Ripped from his thoughts, he looked up to find his server forcing a smile. “The rest of your party has arrived.”

His eyes flicked over her shoulder without his consent.

Bright grey-green eyes looked back, and everything clicked into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll, I am so incredibly flattered by all of your kind comments! That you'd even take the time to write something up, much less write /paragraphs/ is just amazing to me! I seriously cannot convey how much I appreciate them. Things are a bit crazy for me right now, and this fic has been a nice escape... And even nicer is ending a long day and going back to re-read your comments!
> 
> I admit that I never know where this story is going, so I'm glad you all enjoy it! 
> 
> I'm sorry it took this long for these two to finally meet... And then I cut off the chapter right there. 
> 
> I promise they'll actually interact next chapter!


	4. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enkidu and Gilgamesh finally meet. 
> 
> It goes about as well as you would expect.

Gilgamesh’s eyes were red like sunset during a wildfire and seeing them in person was just as powerful. Blood boiled hot under Enkidu’s skin, layers of adrenaline and closure piling up so high it was suffocating. It was the sight of bed after a long day. Crossing the finish line well ahead of the pack. The first barefoot step onto fresh grass in Spring.  

The sensation came in sudden and faded slow, as little bits of floating consciousness settled into place. They recognized with less horror than they’d anticipated that the pieces weren’t their own.

Shamhat’s fingers tapped at their elbow, snatching them out of their head. “I’ll be at the next table over.”

Smiling was harder than expected. Not because they were sad or frightened, but because their feelings were a hopeless maze. “Thank you.” If Shamhat noticed their conflict, she did not say anything. She simply smiled and drifted away.

“So you require a babysitter?”

Enkidu turned to face their future, eyebrow raised. The sensation was not as intense as it was to start. They could do this. “Yeah. I guess we match.” Their eyes flicked over to Shamhat, Siduri, and Tiné, all pointedly _not_ watching them. “At least I don’t need two.” They reveled in the spark of indignation that passed through his eyes as they slid into the chair across from him.

 “They are my assistants. I am a busy man.”

“What are they ‘assisting’ you with now?” The server, leaning over to ask them for their drink order, excused herself in a hurry. Enkidu did not hold it against her. They could tell that Gilgamesh was examining their grin, wondering how many teeth he could knock out of their skull. Shamhat’s eyes burned a hole in their back, but they couldn’t stop themself. “Aren’t you just scared?”

“You say that I am afraid?” Gilgamesh’s voice was low. A chair scraped back at their guardians’ table. “You are the one who ran from me. Though I suppose you simply recognized that I was your better.” He leaned back and raked his fingers through his hair. “Even the heavens are mistaken from time to time. I have no desire to speak to you. Leave.”

Enkidu’s grin went sharp at the edges. “No.”

“What?”

“No.” They repeated, tone bright against his boiling backdrop.

Shamhat, trying to hold Siduri back, stiffened in her seat.

“I’m not going to leave until you admit it.” Enkidu continued. “You want me to leave because you felt that too, and you’re so up your own ass that you don’t know what to do about it.”

Gilgamesh’s lips pushed back in a snarl. His fingers flexed at the table. “You dare,”

“Oh, I _dare._ ” Enkidu cheered. Shamhat’s footsteps reached their ears. They leaned across the table, chest brushing up against their delicate napkin. “Sounds to me like someone needs to get taken down a peg.”

The ghost of a smirk cracked through Gilgamesh’s glare. “And you think yourself capable?”

Enkidu felt Shamhat’s fingertips brush by as their fist struck his face.

\--

Enkidu fought like a beast, tooth and nail just as likely as fist or knee.

Much of Gilgamesh’s time at the gym was consumed by training in various martial arts. He moved from class to class as he became bored with each one. Enkidu had more raw power, but he had the edge in technique.

Someone yelled in the background, sharp and angry. Enkidu hesitated. It was hardly a second, but it was more than enough time for a knee to their gut. They doubled over but recovered, slamming their weight into his chin.

Iron assaulted his tongue. He’d bitten it from the force of the blow. Despite the pain, the sound of distant sirens, and the shattered glasses scattered around them, he caught himself smiling.

By the time the police arrived five minutes later, the border of Gilgamesh’s collar was soaked black with blood from his nose, and Enkidu’s eye was darkened to match. They were both breathing heavily and glass shards stippled their arms.

Rough hands lifted Enkidu away from him, snarling and kicking. Gilgamesh had to fight down the urge to drag them back to the floor.

The man who’d wrested them away was tall, stiff, and familiar. Gilgamesh smeared blood across his face and allowed Siduri help him to his feet. “Chief Reeve,” he acknowledged.

“Mr. Gilgamesh.” Reeve hefted Enkidu and his voice turned to steel. “Enkidu.”

Enkidu went limp, though they retained their grin. “Orlando?” They asked, trying to crane back. Their face fell the moment they saw his. “…I can explain.”

Reeve did not ask them to elaborate. He dropped them to their feet but kept one hand wrapped in their collar. “Your luck has run out. Mr. Gilgamesh will be pressing charges,”

“And when was that decided?” Gilgamesh stepped forward. He had countless questions, they could wait.

Enkidu’s grin returned with a vengeance. “Yeah?”

The smile felt foreign on his lips. Gilgamesh could tell that it looked foreign too, from Reeve’s expression. “Tell the owners that I will cover the cost of repairs and pay them handsomely for their trouble.” He snapped his fingers. “Siduri. Take care of the rest. Tiné. With me.”

Enkidu pulled against Reeve’s hold. “What about me?”

Gilgamesh looked down his bleeding nose at them. Their smile reflected the low light of the restaurant. The rage it had first elicited was absent, replaced by some emotion he’d never felt before. It was not entirely unpleasant. “You look awful.”

They stopped struggling against Reeve’s hold. A little frown graced their face.

“The next time we meet, I expect you to be wearing something better than those rags. Siduri will give you my personal number. I will assist you if you lack the funds.”

The other patrons parted before him on his way out, Tiné fretting in his wake.

\--

“I think I like him,” Enkidu confided in Shamhat as she dabbed antiseptic on their wounds.

\--

“Perhaps they have some worth after all,” Gilgamesh told Tiné as she proffered an ice pack for his swelling cheek.

\--

The bond shuddered into place over the next few days. Enkidu felt it in the little pricks of emotion that permeated the evenings, and the contentment that followed them from place to place. The sensation of moving out of sync had not faded, but now there was someone moving along with them.

Contrary to their previous expectations, they could hardly wait to see Gilgamesh again. The rush they’d gotten fighting him was incomparable. The rational part of their brain reminded them that it was probably the lingering sensation of the bond forming. The irrational part objected.

Unfortunately, it would not be that simple. Shamhat made the unilateral decision to withhold Gilgamesh’s number for the next week. She’d also ordered them to sleep on the couch. They’d begrudgingly complied, knowing that if she left their punishment to Chief Reeve, he would come up with something much worse.

Waiting was easier than they anticipated. Shamhat was strict, but she was not merciless. She distracted them with books and meals whenever possible. Work was similarly time-consuming. Haruri, who watched over the boarding cats, was on some sort of vacation to visit her ailing uncle, leaving Enkidu with twice the work.

It almost came as a surprise when Shamhat texted them a number.

\--

“Why haven’t they called?” Gilgamesh growled. His toe flattened his office carpet with repeated tapping.

Tiné ducked her head. While she admired his pride, Gilgamesh was insufferable in the best of times. He’d been more-so since the dinner. “Siduri said that their friend has ‘grounded’ them.”

“They are not a child,” Gilgamesh snapped, as if she was the one at fault. The bruise around his nose was a blotchy purple under his foundation.

Rather than mention it, Tiné slipped a tablet from under her arm, and held it out for him to see. “You have another photoshoot on the 20th. You will need to decide what you want to do about your mark. If you would like to keep it altered, I will send them the references from the previous shoots.”

“Do not bother.” Gilgamesh was not looking at her. His eyes were fixed upon the dark screen of his phone. Tiné was sure that he was not aware of it.

Asking him for confirmation would be an insult. She tucked the tablet back to her chest and nodded.

His eyes flicked to her face. “Is that everything?”

“Ye-“

The phone rang.

Tiné excused herself from the room.

To his credit, Gilgamesh did not dive for it. He glanced over the caller ID first. It displayed an unknown number, but not the sort he usually associated with the telemarketers that even he could not avoid. He lifted the phone to his ear. “Speak.”

“Gil! Is that you?”

It was unacceptable, the things that voice did to his stomach. Still, he did not fight off the smile threatening his lips. “You are awfully familiar. I did not give you permission to address me like that.”

“But you don’t mind.” Enkidu replied with such confidence that he could not object.

Flickers of movement indicated some disturbance outside of his office, he walked to the shutters and plucked them apart. Siduri and Tiné were huddled together at the former’s desk. They caught sight of him and snapped apart. He huffed. The shutters fell closed. “I was beginning to believe that you did not know how to operate a phone.”

“You could’ve called me.”

Gilgamesh rolled his wrist in a dismissive gesture. “What business could I possibly have with you?”

Shuffling on the other line. “I just got off work and I’m hungry. You’re gonna buy me dinner.”

This was hardly what he’d expected. Amusement snuck into his voice. “What makes you think that I will do that?”

“Because you’re Fortune 500, and I’m a professional pet sitter. Meet you at Max’s Diner in half an hour!” A pause. “The one on Howard. And if you’re late, I’m not letting you eat any of my fries.”

Gilgamesh punched up a map on his computer. It was the next block over; a short walk. “I suppose that I can humor you. But if you make me wait,”

“Great! See you in thirty!” The line went dead.

Gilgamesh examined the home screen of his phone. He took a moment to save the contact before exiting his office. “Siduri. Clear my evening starting now. Tiné. With me.”

A look passed between them, and they split. The keys of Siduri’s computer tapped a rapid beat. Tiné followed him back into his office, where he dropped into his chair. She gave him a moment to adjust before prompting. “How can I help you?”

Gilgamesh made a show of looking at his computer screen, though his eyes flickered from place to place too often to telegraph any serious work. “I am going to meet with Enkidu tonight.” His eyes skimmed up to her. “Though I am sure that I do not need to tell you that.”

Tiné ducked her head.

“Close the door.”

She complied.

Gilgamesh rested his fingertips on his keyboard. “It is my understanding that Siduri has connections to that woman.” He did not bother specifying which one. “They have been discussing this in private, and you are privy to their conversations. Tell me. Were they aware of this meeting?”

It was not an unreasonable question. After a moment of thought, Tiné shook her head. “I am sure that they could have guessed that this would happen, but I’m sure that they didn’t plan this.”

“Is that so?” Gilgamesh’s voice raised in a way she’d come to associate with enjoyment. “I see. It is bold of Enkidu to seek me out after their transgressions during our previous encounter. I will have to reward them for their hubris.” He drew his coat over his shoulders like a cape.

Tiné ducked back to dodge its hem. “Should I call Chief Reeve?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. I am more than capable of handling them on my own.”

Tiné slipped out of his way as he strode out of his office. The sound of Siduri’s keyboard paused as he passed and resumed moments later. Once the sound of his footsteps passed out of earshot, she exited his office and made a beeline back to Siduri’s desk.

The moment Tiné’s fingertips hit wood, Siduri withdrew from her keyboard. “Do you think that he will be alright?”

“He seemed happy,” Tiné confessed. “… But I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.”

Siduri cupped her cheek in her hand. “… I will ask Chief Reeve to tell me if they get any calls.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your patience! Things got even crazier, but they've started to resolve themselves. Hopefully I'll be able to get you the next installment a little faster.


	5. Streetlights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enkidu introduces Gilgamesh to the wonders of diner food. 
> 
> Someone takes notice.

Max’s Diner was built into the bottom of a skyscraper, with a blue wrap-around sign with its name mimicking more traditional establishments. Enkidu stood illuminated by the fluorescent blue, engrossed in their phone. Despite Gilgamesh’s prior warning, they were still wearing their uniform’s polo, with only a cable-knit cardigan to cover the fur. Their grey-green eyes glanced up at the first sign of gold.

It was a good instinct. Gilgamesh crossed his arms across his chest, eyebrow raised. “You must have some level of nerve to invite me to this hovel.” His smile gave him away.

They grinned back and snatched his hand. “You must live a pretty boring life, if you only go to places that need reservations. I think I’m getting why I’m your soulmate.”

“To feed me grease?” He asked, amusement lingering on the edge of his voice.

They laughed and tugged him inside.

Their server was a bright boy with a big smile and untamable hair. He introduced himself as “Flatt.” Enkidu elbowed Gilgamesh in the ribs before he could comment. They were seated at the last booth, just beside a window.

The moment they were seated, Enkidu snatched a menu and caught their tongue between their teeth in clear concentration. Gilgamesh tried not to pay it any mind.

“So this is definitely the first time you’ve lowered yourself to coming to a place like this, so you’re gonna have to try a lot.” They placed the menu flat on the table and turned it for him to see. “You’re getting the combo with sausage, eggs, hash browns, and pancakes. I’m gonna order two burgers and a milkshake.”

“I see that I have no choice in the matter,” Gilgamesh huffed, stretching his arms across the booth like a cat.

Enkidu shook their head and pulled the menu back. “I won the fight, so I get to pick.”

“And how is that?” More amusement than anger.

“I had you pinned at the end!” Enkidu declared, stabbing their menu up into the air.

“I would have turned the tables had Chief Reeve not interfered,” Gilgamesh warned. “Though I am not sure that I could defeat you. You have the strength of a feral beast.”

There was a question lingering just under the backhanded compliment. The laugh lines framing Enkidu’s eyes smoothed away. “Did,”

“I did not ask.” Gilgamesh declared. “Your past is of no consequence. You have proved amusing enough to entertain me as you are.”

Some of the tension bled from their shoulders. Their smile returned. “You almost sounded like some kind of prince for a second there. And then your personality got in the way.”

“I doubt you would be content with a prince,” Gilgamesh scoffed.

“So you’re acknowledging that you are my soulmate?”

There was something smug about Enkidu’s smile, though Gilgamesh could not place it. It should have lit rage in his chest. He should have snarled. Perhaps challenged them to another brawl. He’d done as much in the past. Rather than antagonizing them, he leaned back against the vinyl seat. “I suppose you are adequate.”

“Wow! A confession already! We’re moving really fast!” Enkidu laughed.

Whatever indignant words tipped out of Gilgamesh’s mouth were drowned out as Flatt fumbled their dishes onto the table. It was a small miracle that nothing spilled over the edge of the plates. He apologized and Enkidu brushed away his concerns.

After Flatt finally left, Enkidu dug into their burger with ravenous enthusiasm.

Gilgamesh flicked away the crumbs that rolled to his side of the table. It was difficult to concentrate on his food when they sat across from him; a beautiful contradiction that warmed his heart with equal parts affection and aggression.  

They were correct about one thing: he had acknowledged them. From the moment they’d drawn a smile from him, his fate was sealed.

It was not as upsetting as it should have been.

He impaled a sausage link and took a bite. It was good.

Little conversation passed between them until their plates were all but empty. Despite his doubts, Gilgamesh demolished everything set in front of him, and some of Enkidu’s fries (as promised). As the food settled in his stomach, Enkidu spoke up.

“You aren’t what I expected.”

Their tone was not the playful lilt he’d become accustomed to. It cut at his mood. “And what did you expect? Some kind of tyrant?” he asked.

Enkidu stared into the creamy remains of their milkshake. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“… I suppose we have that in common, at the very least.”

They looked up, surprised. “But you have everything! You should have gotten a super model, or a rocket scientist, or something. I’m just… _Nobody._ ”

”No,” Gilgamesh corrected, “You are mine.”

Enkidu’s smile burned itself into his memory.

\--

Flatt Escardos was not rich by any stretch of imagination. His family was well-off. They owned a boat they kept docked in the bay and enjoyed a two-story house in the suburbs. Not that their means had ever had much effect on his lifestyle. His childhood was one of neglect. He’d been disowned the moment he turned eighteen.

It did not bother him. Despite his lackadaisical approach to life, his grades had earned him a full ride to the local university that helped soften the blow. In the second semester of his freshman year, a literature professor had taken him under his wing and introduced him to several other students. He’d ended up rooming with two of them named Jack and Svin. They tolerated him well enough (Jack more than Svin) and it made rent considerably more manageable. His scholarships were generous, but not enough to live on.

The diner gig wasn’t bad. He got to meet new people and managed tenuous friendships with several regulars. On occasion he even spotted several celebrities. He was always friendly with them, like he was with any other customer, and tried to respect their privacy like his boss insisted. Sometimes it was difficult.

Take Gilgamesh for example. The guy radiated money. Even if Flatt had not recognized him from a million television appearances, he would have been impossible to miss. He knew that his professor had some sort of history with him, though he rarely spoke about it. Flatt wracked his memory for stories. Nothing. Well, nothing except the vague knowledge that the Gilgamesh Professor El Melloi II knew would never be caught dead in a diner. So while he was distracted, Flatt raised his phone and snapped a picture.

Things became hectic after that. He did not get the chance to send it to his professor until his shift ended. 

Still buzzing with excitement, he leaned against the counter and punched the picture into a text.

“Hey, is that Gilgamesh?”

“Yeah! He was here earlier. Isn’t that cool?” Flatt turned around to look at the person who’d spoken. He did not recognize her. She was almost a head shorter than him with skin as pale as paper and eyes that would have sent a smarter man running.

“Can I see?” She went up on her toes, craning to get a good look at his phone.

He tilted it so she could get a look at the screen.

“Who’s he sitting with? I don’t recognize them at _all_.”  Her voice sounded like someone singing just out of key.

Flatt tucked his phone away, though he couldn’t quite place why. But experience (and Jack) insisted that his instincts were usually good. “A regular! Anyway, I’ve gotta go or my professor’s gonna be pissed!” It was a half-assed excuse if he’d ever made one. No professor would want to see their student at fifteen ‘til midnight. But the odd customer made no attempt to stop him on his way out. She waved and laughed, leaving him just a little uneasy.

\--

The photograph of Gilgamesh’s back was intended to advertise his latest line of pants. They were sleek-fitting and practical, cut from state-of-the-art breathable fabric.  With the right press, they would make millions.

By that time, half the internet was familiar with his mark. It rested between his shoulder blades, just as it had in every other picture of it, in striking red and faded green.

The image caught Enkidu’s eye from the CRT TV dangling from the corner of the daycare lobby. Closed captions flickered across the screen, lagging well behind the news caster’s lips.

[-CHANGED FROM PREVIOUS APPEARANCES. GILGAMESH CONFIRMS THAT THIS IS HIS UNALTERED MARK. WE CAN ONLY ASSUME THAT THIS MEANS THAT HE HAS FOUND HIS SOULMATE. HE HAS NOT RELEASED THE NA-]

Soccer players dashed across the screen. Spell broken, Enkidu looked to the reception desk. Haruri tucked the remote control back into its drawer, lips twisted in disgust. “I hate that gossip,” she explained. “I’m not changing it back.”

Enkidu shrugged and returned to their sweeping.

\--

 “Doesn’t it feel a little weird that half the world’s staring at your ass?”

Gilgamesh did not move his eyes from the road. “I have no reason to be ashamed of my body.”

Enkidu hummed in reluctant agreement. They kept their cheek pressed up against the window of Gilgamesh’s Lamborghini. They had little doubt that their skin would leave a mark on the sparkling window, but he had not told them to stop. The glass was cool against their cheek. It was a blessing given their mode of dress.

Gilgamesh had appeared at their place of work five minutes before the end of their shift with a bag of clothing. The slacks were tighter than they were accustomed to, and the tunic (while beautiful) itched at their skin. When they’d put it on, he’d gotten a self-satisfied smirk, and they were not sure if that meant that they looked good by _his_ standards or by a normal human’s, but they did not change back.

He did not tell them where they were going, and by the turns he was taking, they were not confident that he was taking them anywhere in particular. The uncertainty did not bother them much, though perhaps it should have. They hardly knew him, and his reputation was far from stellar. Still, they couldn’t bring themself to be concerned.

“I am sure that you have questions to ask me,”

Enkidu glanced over.

Gilgamesh’s eyes reflected the red of the stop light.

“Not particularly.”

“You _should_ have questions to ask me,” Gilgamesh amended, and there was a growl to his voice that told Enkidu that he was being very serious. “Now that they know that I have found my,” his voice took on a tone of incredulous resignation, “ _Soulmate_ they will start circling like vultures.”

“They?’

“You are not stupid.”

Enkidu nudged themself upright by their shoulder. “You don’t know that.”

“Must you be so difficult?”

“Technically no,” Enkidu conceded. “But you’re not getting to the point, so I’m not the only one.” The light turned green, and Enkidu watched its shape distort as they drove under it. They made it another block before they spoke again. “I didn’t think this far when I decided that I wanted to meet you.”

“I’d figured as much. The media would not normally be your concern.” Gilgamesh took a right turn. They were venturing into an area of the city that Enkidu was not immediately familiar with. They turned their attention back to the storefronts flashing by.

“Yeah. Orlando did a lot for me back then.”

Gilgamesh looked away from the road for just a moment to catch their expression, but they were facing away.

“Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular.”

“I figured.” Enkidu thumbed their train card out of their pocket. “You should probably drop me off a few blocks from my apartment. I can tell you the way if you head back to your building. You showed up to tell me that we probably shouldn’t be seen together, right?”

No response.

“You could have called.” Enkidu reminded him. “It would’ve been safer.”

“I have taken precautions.” Gilgamesh concluded.

“That’s fine then.” Enkidu settled back into their seat and watched the city pass by.

It took another fifteen minutes and two wrong turns before Gilgamesh pulled to the curb. The car was concealed under the hang of a rare city tree, but Enkidu kept their head ducked low as they slipped from the passenger seat.

“I will call you,” Gilgamesh said. “I am sure that we can come to some sort of arrangement. Though it will take time.”

Enkidu leaned in, grinning. “That taken with me already? I thought your standards would be higher.”

Gilgamesh’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel. “You ask those things often. You are worthy of my attention, Enkidu. I will not hear of it any longer.”

He could not see their expression, backlit by the lights of their apartment complex, but they reached in and hooked a single finger around one of his for just a moment before pulling away.

“I’ll see you later, Gil.”

And they slipped away into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update schedule is so irregular- I hope that it's not too much of an inconvenience! 
> 
> I love you all, and I'm immensely grateful that all of you are reading this story. (And for your generous comments! They're really keeping me going.) 
> 
> I hope I can continue to meet your expectations! This started out as a really self-indulgent fic, so I'm really glad that other people like it too.


	6. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All secrets come out eventually.

Shortly after lunch, Siduri’s phone rang. The initial fuss from Gilgamesh’s latest photoshoot had died out the day before, but a few residual calls were still coming in. She sighed and answered it.

“Siduri! My gal! Wanna do me a favor and put me through to the big guy?”

She wrenched the phone away from her ear. “Mr. Dumas. May I ask why you’re calling?”

“Information, lady! I’ve got more information!” Papers shuffling near the receiver only exacerbated the ache in her ears. “Managed to get a hold of some of my higher-up connections with the U.S. Marshals and I’ve got that Enkidu guy- gal- that Enkidu’s sealed records. Really juicy stuff! So, you wanna put me through?”

Siduri placed her palm over the receiver and looked back at Gilgamesh’s office. He was on the phone- had been considerably more often lately. He was smiling far too much for it to be business.

 “I am sorry. Mr. Gilgamesh is busy at the moment. I will tell him that you’ve called.”

There was a heavy sigh on the other side of the line. “Yeah, sure, whatever. But you should know I ain’t the only one digging around.”

“I see.” Siduri took another peek through the curtains. “I will put you through.” She tapped a button, eyes focused on the window separating her from her employer.

Gilgamesh’s face twitched in irritation. She looked long enough to confirm that he’d switched to the other line, and then turned her attention to her computer.

The yelling started not long after.

Nearly half an hour passed before he emerged from his office, eyes still burning with anger. “Siduri.”

She lifted her head. “It looks like it is a gossip rag. That woman named Francesca seems to have the same contact as Mr. Dumas. But if they can find additional evidence, I am sure that it will spread to more papers and programs from there. I can contact the publisher to see if they are willing to bury the story, but there is no guarantee that they will.”

A sharp exhale marked his irritation. “Do what you must. If you require funds, I will provide them. I will be in my office. No one is to speak to me unless it is urgent.”

The door slammed shut behind him, shaking on its hinges. Siduri watched him pick up his phone and the irritation drip from his shoulders. She lifted hers to her ear and started to dial.

\--

Soft dawn broke through the windows of Enkidu’s workplace as they unlatched the front door. Haruri was off for the day, and Ayaka would not be in for another hour. Keeping their eyes open was nearly impossible. Gilgamesh had kept them up until they’d hung up on him at half past two. He’d tried to call them back once before Shamhat reached over and turned off their phone. 

He’d been agitated, though no amount of prodding could get him to admit it, much less why.

Their phone sat dormant in their pocket. They hadn’t bothered turning it back on.

The sound of the front door wiped away a bit of their exhaustion.

Tsubaki Kuruoka was dwarfed by the midnight mastiff she’d named Mr. Black. She could probably ride him. Enkidu would not be surprised if she’d tried; the dog would probably humor her. Despite his massive size, he was gentle as a rabbit for Tsubaki, and never pulled at his leash.

He was not so generous with Enkidu.

They tried not to mind. The Kuruokas were some of their best customers, even if Enkidu objected to their consistent neglect of both their daughter and their dog. “Just you this morning?” They asked, craning around. Her backpack was hanging heavy over her shoulders, wider around than her waist.

“Yeah. Mama and Papa had to go to work.” Her pout drew Enkidu forward, eager to comfort her. Mr. Black growled. They shied away.

Tsubaki’s eyes caught theirs, and they shone, lighting up the dark circles under her eyes. “Oh! Mx. Enkidu! I saw you on TV this morning. You were really handsome!”

The soft sunlight seemed much sharper. They knelt on the linoleum floor, keeping their voice gentle. Mr. Black was growling again- a low rumble they could all but feel. “I was on TV?”

“Uh-huh,” Tsubaki wound her fingers through Mr. Black’s fur. Her voice was getting quiet too. “…Is that bad?”

Enkidu knew the look on her face. It was written on theirs long before they’d met Shamhat; even before they’d met Chief Orlando. They wiped a smile across their lips and reached out to pat her head. Mr. Black growled, but allowed it. “No. It’s not bad. Thank you for telling me.” They pointed at the clock on the wall. “I’ll take good care of Mr. Black, okay? You should head to school before it gets too late.”

Tsubaki smiled, and it looked like the sun puncturing clouds. Enkidu only wished it could wash out the buzzing concern in the back of their head. “Okay Mx. Enkidu! I’ll see you later, okay?” She put her fists on her hips and looked up at her dog. “Be nice for Mx. Enkidu, okay?”

He huffed.

“Have a safe walk.”

The door chimed again, signaling Tsubaki’s departure. They watched her until she disappeared past the view of the front windows. The television was not on for the day. Haruri or Ayaka usually turned it on for background noise, but Enkidu preferred life without it. Now they rummaged in the drawer for the remote and turned it on. Static resolved itself to a man wielding a baseball bat. The buzz of a crowd burst forth for a moment before they changed the channel. Programs flicked by. Enkidu gave each a second or two before moving on to the next.

Their hands were dotted with sweat by the time they reached a news channel. Morning traffic filled the screen with read and orange lines. The remote nearly shook from their hands. Of course they’d missed it. Tsubaki’d probably left her house fifteen minutes ago. The program she was watching was long over.

She was just a child, they reasoned. She could have been mistaken. Maybe Shamhat had shown up in the background of some program filming on the city streets, or there was a third look-alike out there. Shamhat had mentioned that her friend from yoga (Siduri?) knew someone with an eerily similar face, if a very different personality.

White text crawled across the bottom of the screen. Their eyes glanced over it and stuck.

Their name slipped by, as if it was nothing.

\--

Information spread quickly with the advent of the internet. Everyone, particularly those with money to burn, were expected to be riding the cutting edge of knowledge at all times. Gilgamesh woke every morning to the sound of the radio alarm he’d kept despite its age. Once he’d dragged himself from his chambers, he turned his attention to the television, and finally flipped through the latest headlines on his phone on the drive to the office.

Consciousness came slow and painful, set to the aging voice of one of Watcher 1300.2’s announcers.  He gritted his teeth against the noise and pushed himself upright. He’d gotten perhaps three hours of sleep. It grated on him. He closed his eyes, sinking back against the pillow, letting the deep voice of the news caster lull him into something akin to sleep.

“ _…Enkidu. An anonymous source from the U.S. Marshals has confirmed that this is the same name given to the feral,”_

The plastic radio cracked under his fist.  

Adrenaline burned through him. He scrambled for his phone and tapped it awake. The screen stayed black. The battery was dead. Colorful curses followed him as he scrambled for his charging cable. It took a few tense moments for the screen to light up, but when it did, it nearly hurled itself off the end table with the force of its notifications.

There were two missed calls from Siduri, a text from Tiné, no less than three messages from Dumas, and a single, concerned message from Nefertari.

Someone was pounding at the door.

He dragged a sheet around his waist and lurched out of bed.

Siduri greeted him, her spare key dangling from her fingertips. A question teetered at the edge of her lips. Her eyes caught the fire in his, and she went silent.

“What happened?”

She did not flinch. “They must have already known before last night. It is all over the morning papers.” She pressed past him. “Have you spoken to Enkidu?”

The sheet nearly tripped him in his rush back to his bedroom. Siduri followed him in to pluck clothing from his closets.

Enkidu’s number went directly to voice mail, just as it had the night before. Apparently they’d yet to turn on their phone. He hurled the phone at the wall. Its cord caught it short and it landed on the bed with a soft thump.

“You have that woman’s number.”

A pile of clothes was thrust into his arm. Siduri was already dialing Shamhat. “Please hurry and get dressed. You are already receiving requests for interviews. I recommend that you get ahead of them.”

“Enkidu,”

Siduri cupped her hand over the receiver of her cell, voice hard. “If you do not contact the press, they will go for Enkidu next. Do you think that they are equipped for that? Can you _guarantee_ that they will not become overwhelmed and lash out at one of the reporters?”

Gilgamesh gritted his teeth and dropped the sheets. He grabbed a pair of pants and dragged them on.

Siduri turned her attention to her phone. “Hello? Shamhat, I am sorry if I’ve woken you up, but it is urgent. Are you at home? Where is Enkidu?”

Her voice faded out of the room.

Dressing took hardly more than a moment. Siduri caught sight of him in the kitchen and pointed to the front door. She mouthed the name of his driver.

The ride to the office was only a few minutes, but every block seemed to crawl by. He beat his heel against the floor, fighting off the temptation to order his driver to stop the car and run the rest of the way.

His phone, plucked from its charger with barely the battery to function, buzzed with updates from Siduri. Shortly after he’d left, she’d learned that Enkidu had already left for work. She’d called a taxi and would arrive within fifteen minutes. Shamhat would likely arrive soon after.

And then what?

He grit his teeth just in time for a wave of panic punching through the bond.

What little he’d learned about soulmates had told him that, after the bond was formed, strong emotions could ricochet through it. Just the night before Enkidu’d whined that his concern was keeping them awake. Gilgamesh had not understood. To date, he’d never felt more than a whisp of affect.

Now it seemed suffocating. He scrambled at his chest, trying to determine the source of the ache. The moment his nails bit into his chest, the feeling evaporated.

Enkidu knew.

He only hoped that Siduri arrived soon.

\--

A singular car stood vigil over the entrance to the daycare.

Siduri leapt from the taxi, tossing payment over the passenger seat with a fleeting apology.

The activity in the lobby was localized at the desk. An unfamiliar woman, not yet in her uniform, wilted under a barrage of questions from a man in a white suit.

“Mr. Karture,”

The woman’s head turned in her direction. Her eyes spelled exhausted resignation.

Jester Karture did not divert his attention. He reached out for the woman’s chin to draw it back to him. Siduri had seen the move more than once before. Fueled by nervous energy, she crossed the distance to the desk in three strides. She was not as strong as her employer, and certainly did not have the strength to rival Jester. She did, however, know just where to dig her nails to get a reaction.

He hissed and finally turned to look at her. “There’s no need to be so _rough._ I’m only asking some questions.”

“Interrogating her, more like it.” Siduri held his gaze.

Jester’s grin split wide.  “You’re still a spitfire, I see. I like that about you.”

“I am surprised to see you here,” Siduri tapped her finger on the desk and pointed for the door that led to the back. The woman behind the desk disappeared from sight. “I’d thought that you’d been run out of the news industry after what you did to that poor girl. I should call Chief Reeve or officers Jack and Vera here and tell them that you are falling back into bad behavior. I am sure that they would be happy to see you out.”

“I am just doing my job,” Jester exclaimed, wrenching his arm from her grasp. “You wouldn’t deny the people a story, would you?”

“Or I could call Father Cervantes,” Siduri drew her phone out of her pocket. “I believe that his church is nearby. I am sure that he would come running if I told him that you were here.”

Tension coiled tight. Siduri pressed through it, pulling up her extensive list of contacts.

Finally, Jester clicked his tongue and walked past her. The chime of a bell above the door signaled his departure. She did not tuck her phone away until she heard his car start and pull away.

“He’s gone. It’s safe to come out.”

The blonde head of the woman peeked out from the back room. “…Thank you.” Her voice was quiet. Siduri had to strain to hear it.

“I am glad that I was able to help. My name is Siduri- I am friends with Enkidu and Shamhat.” She reached across the desk, holding her hand out palm-up.

The woman slipped further out, until she’d resumed her former position behind the computer at the desk. She eyed Siduri’s hand but did not take it. “… I’m Ayaka.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ayaka. I came here to see Enkidu. Are they here?”

Ayaka hesitated and looked to the employee door.

“Shamhat will be here soon. Would it make you feel better if I waited until she gets here?”

Ayaka nodded.

The wait was a little over five minutes. Shamhat stumbled in, breathing heavily from the sprint from the station.

Ayaka’s eyes lit up in relief. Rather than speak, she unlatched the employee door, and Shamhat rushed through it without hesitation. Ayaka did not comment when Siduri followed.

Shamhat’s hurried path sent her dodging through a hallway, throwing open closet doors as she went. Bags of food, toys, and clipboards tumbled to the ground. Siduri dodged them to the best of her ability, stubbing a toe more than once.

They broke into a small yard flanked by one-story fences. Siduri stopped, looking about. There was a large black dog resting in a sunbeam in the far corner. The rest of the dogs were cuddled up in a hopeless knot to their left.

Shamhat cut through the yard and knelt beside the pile. Several dogs on the closest side raised their heads to sniff at her. One of the smaller ones growled. “Enkidu?”

A hand emerged from the horde. Several of the pups, disturbed by the motion, shuffled off to brighter pastures.

Siduri watched in awe and confusion while Shamhat pulled a back of treats from her pocket and coaxed the dogs away from the pile one by one. Each desertion revealed a little more of Enkidu’s body. Finally there was only one left, though Enkidu’s arms and face remained hidden by its thick coat of fur. Shamhat reached over the dog’s body and brushed back a lock of their hair that had slipped free from their ponytail. “Is Ayaka okay?” they asked, voice muffled by fur.

Shamhat turned to Siduri, eyes pleading. She drew in closer and knelt beside her friend. “Ayaka is fine.”

Their body stiffened at her voice. The dog they were hugging whined and curled its head around to lick them. “…Does Gil know?”

“I am not sure how much he heard,” Siduri confessed. “But I know that he has always wanted to hear it from you.”

Enkidu pressed their cheek further into the dog’s fur.

Shamhat ran her fingers through their hair, gently working out the snarls. “Gilgamesh asked Siduri to come here to check on you.”

“…He did?”

“Yes.” Siduri unlocked her phone, opened her messages, and tapped it against Enkidu’s hand. They took it. “He is talking to the press, so that they do not come here to talk to you. He wanted to make sure that you were safe.”

The dog huffed in annoyance as Enkidu slipped the phone down against its back to get a better look at the messages. Eventually it grew bored and slipped free of Enkidu’s arms to go play with the others running about the yard. They curled back into Shamhat’s lap to keep reading. Occasionally Ayaka would peek in to drop off a new dog. She did not ask any questions.

Around the third new guest, Enkidu pushed themself upright. “…I want to see him.”

Shamhat slipped their hair tie around her fingers and wove their tangles back into a neat bun. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“He will want to hear everything.” Siduri counseled. “They may have told him already. Will you be okay?”

Enkidu held out her phone and brushed the fur from their uniform. “I can tell him.”

Shamhat’s hands found their shoulders and squeezed. “Are you sure that you’re ready?”

“Yes.” They twisted back and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek in thanks. “Can you…”

“I will take over your shift.” Shamhat hugged them tight before letting go. “Siduri, can I count on you to keep them safe?”

“I’m not a child,” Enkidu grumbled with only half of their usual enthusiasm.

“But you are not used to this sort of scrutiny,” Siduri reminded them. “I have been dealing with it on Gilgamesh’s behalf for years now.”

Enkidu seemed to accept this. They cracked their neck with a heavy sigh and shuffled for the door. “We should get going. He’s getting so tense that it’s giving me a headache.”

Siduri followed them out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there's only about one chapter left of this. This is already much longer than I expected to be, mainly because I had no plot in mind starting out. (Oops?) 
> 
> Quick notes:   
> \- The U.S. Marshall is Faldeus.   
> \- No Name had a rough time because of a certain asshole in the past, but got help from a childish priest and a taciturn bouncer. She's got a downright terrifying restraining order against said asshole, and her probably-not-boyfriend-but-who-knows-they're-both-emotionally-stunted buddy Sigma keeping an eye out for her. Of course, she can take care of herself plenty. (I really wanted to give her at least a cameo, but a) I wasn't sure how and b) I wasn't sure what to call her.)


	7. Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enkidu tells a story.

Sunbeams broke past the skyscrapers as their taxi navigated through the city streets. Enkidu watched familiar shops pass by while Siduri whispered through the third phone call that ride. At least one of them had been to Gilgamesh. She’d let them speak for just a moment. He hadn’t had time for more. They weren’t sure what to say regardless.

Gilgamesh’s building slid into view. “He’ll be holding a press conference,” Siduri explained. The taxi rolled to a stop, and she rested her fingertips on the door handle. “Are you ready?”

There were two vans with network logos plastered on the sides. Enkidu eyed them with some trepidation. They tucked their distinctive hair up into a borrowed baseball cap and nodded.

Siduri enforced a brisk walk through the entrance. Running, she’d explained previously, would only draw attention. Once inside, she tucked them both into a service elevator. The doors slid closed. She sighed. “There. We should be fine from here.”

The elevator was spacious, but not pretty. Enkidu pressed their fingertips into the padded sheets covering the interior. “You said there was a press conference. Is that because of me?”

“It will reduce the speculation and the number of interviews he has to do,” Siduri explained. “It is happening in an hour. You will probably have to wait to talk to him until after that. My colleague and I will be helping him write a statement. If there is anything that you think he should know before then…”

Enkidu remained silent.

It was only a short walk from the elevator to their offices. Siduri gestured for Enkidu to sit down behind one of the desks and disappeared through the oak door of what they assumed was Gilgamesh’s office.

They glanced at the chair. Even though it belonged to one of Gilgamesh’s assistants, it looked considerably more expensive than anything they could hope to afford. They backed up into a corner and pressed their cheek against the plexiglass window.

It was impossible to see individual people walking past thigh high up. Cars crawled like ants along pre-determined tracks. Aged copper roofs dotted the scenery. The buildings reminded Enkidu of a canopy of trees. They traced their diminishing height out to the suburbs and further. By the horizon, civilization had melted back down into fields. A dark line where land met sky signified the nearest forest.

They turned their attention back to the city below.

Twenty minutes crawled past watching the shadows change.

Then Gilgamesh burst from his office.

He moved like a storm, brushing through with single-minded intensity. They looked up and caught a sliver of red in the corner of his eye. It softened, but only just.

Then he was gone, leaving Enkidu alone with the phones.

\--

_She found them in a dumpster. Those were the early days, before she’d learned to hunt, when she relied on cast-offs to eat. They were wrapped in bundles of newspaper, still red from the brush of birth. It was a wonder they’d survived._

_She took them to the little home she’d built in the forest and tucked them in old flannel from her own time in the ‘human world.’_

_Maybe she’d seen something of herself in them; created and then tossed aside like so much scrap. Enkidu did not know her reasoning. She’d never told them, and they’d never known to ask._

_Later, they’d wondered why she’d never discarded them the same way their parents had. Inviting a child into her self-imposed isolation meant nothing more than a second mouth to feed, and an ungrateful one at that. They knew because she’d said as much. On her bad days, she’d scream and hurl her things about, cursing in words she never taught them._

_As they grew in size and strength, she taught them how to walk, speak, and hunt. Their burden lifted off her shoulders. They helped her tend to her tiny garden and prepare meals, and they huddled close to share her body heat in the cold winters._

_But the yelling only increased in frequency. When she’d found them, she was only several months out from society. But the more the years passed, the less human she became._

_It was obvious only in hindsight._

_By their seventh year, she left most of the hunting to them. They were clever. They’d learned to make any number of traps. They could track prey, and knew the best places to look, even during spare times. But there was only so much a child could do._

_They’d returned to their home empty handed and licking their wounds more than once. On those days she would scream and pull at her hair, ripping out clumps and tossing them across the floor._

_She’d never once raised her fist against them. Not directly. And they did love her. As much as they could._

_Seven years was a long time to live with only an untamed child and the forest creatures for company._

_She was sick. Had been for as long as they could remember- perhaps even longer than she’d been in the woods. It was a little in the mind, and a little in the body. On the bad days there was not much they could do other than bring her water and food if she could stomach it._

_Things came to a head in spring. She did not rise from her bed for nearly a month and accepted less and less food with each passing day. Groans that they recognized as pain followed them through the nights._

_When the weather became warm enough to sleep without blankets, she called them to her side.  She’d hardly eaten in days despite the influx of fresh prey that came with the season. They brought her food anyway. It went untouched._

_Enkidu knew from experience that a dying animal was at its most dangerous, but her strength still caught them off guard. She caught them by the collar of their threadbare shirt and pulled them in close. They could feel the fever of her breath scorching their cheek._

_She told them that they knew what to do with a dying animal._

_She told them to follow the river._

_They’d survived that long by doing what she said._

_It took three days to reach the edge of the forest. They broke through the screen of trees next to an impossibly loud and impossibly flat stretch of stone dominated by metal beasts. Overwhelmed and afraid, they turned to the forest-_

_She was not there. Not in the woods, not in the cabin, not_ anywhere.

_They pressed their hands to their ears and curled into the sodden grass._

_Officer Orlando Reeve found them there. His broad shadow blocked out the morning light, and they scrambled for the chipped knife they’d tucked through the waistband of their jeans._

_He’d looked down and seen a child hidden under ill-fitting clothes, caked in blood and dirt. He saw their intentions as well. He could have pinned them and wrenched the knife away. Should have. But instead he’d gestured for his partner Vera to fetch a shock blanket from the car. He knelt next to them in the dirt until their shoulders softened, and held out his hands, wide open and devoid of weapons, and told them they were safe._

_He did not ask about the blood or the clothing. He just tucked the blanket around them, and let Vera push a stuffed bear into their arms. They dropped the knife, overwhelmed._

_Things went quickly after that. Vera rode with them in the ambulance back to one of the area hospitals. They did not remember most of the trip. It took Orlando and Vera’s combined strength to manhandle them into the back, only half-aided by their reluctance to let go of the bear._

_The paramedic that tried to help received a bite and several bruises for his trouble. There was a pinch at their shoulder, and everything went black._

\--

Midnight left Gilgamesh’s office dark around the edges. He’d stopped their story only once to turn on the desk lamp. It lit their faces like a campfire. Enkidu’s fingers knotted together in their lap, knuckles white from twisting. Even this close, they could not feel anything dripping through the bond. There was no anger or disappointment like they’d expected. Somehow their absence was more frightening.

Gilgamesh cleared his throat. “Well?”

Enkidu raised their head, catching his expression. Unreadable. Unhelpful. Irritation bubbled up. “Well, what?”

“What happened next?”

They barked out a noise- half laugh, half groan. “Orlando said that he ‘took care of it’, whatever that means. Then he and Vera helped me find a family willing to take someone like me in. I’m pretty sure that you already know the rest.” It came out clipped.

Gilgamesh laughed. It was a sudden thing. Enkidu lurched in their chair, first startled, then indignant. “What’s so funny?”

“You are anxious.” He grinned like he was sharing a secret. “To think, a child raised by a madwoman would become an adult afraid of a _conversation._ ”

Enkidu’s blood boiled, burning off their nerves. “I am _not_ scared!”

He looked down at their hands and raised an eyebrow.

They yanked them apart.

“…It seems that the vultures outside were not aware of that woman. How many have you told?”

“You.” Enkidu’s eyes drifted down again. “Shamhat. Orlando and Vera.”

“Your parents?”

They shook their head. “Only a little. I asked Orlando not to tell them what happened to her.”

“But you have told me.”

“You’d have to find out sooner or later. This,” Enkidu waved their hand from his chest to theirs, “Couldn’t last forever.”

Gilgamesh pinched his brow, skin turning red under the force of it. Enkidu thought they caught a muffled curse. “You really are a fool.”

Enkidu flinched.

“…however, the diner you too me to was… acceptable. What did you say? That I would never lower myself to go to such a place without your influence?”

“But that’s exactly the,”

Gilgamesh pushed out of his chair and towered over them. They scrambled out of their chair in turn, straining to match his height. “It is. You and I come from different worlds. The way that we think, that we speak, and that we lived is completely different. Our only commonality is that there is no one else like us in the world. But that is precisely _why._ ” He snatched their chin, squeezing until their jaw creaked. They bared their teeth in response. He snarled out a smile. “It is only fitting that you would be the only one who could stand by my side.”

He withdrew his grip, leaving the red dents of his fingertips along Enkidu’s jaw line. They rolled their jaw, working out the kinks. “…That’s awfully selfish of you.”

Gilgamesh did not object. His smile did not waver.

Enkidu pushed in close, further into his space, eye to eye. “But why me? Why do I need you?”

“To keep you tame.”

A well-placed punch wiped the smirk from his face – but only just.

\--

“Gilgamesh’s car is here!”

Enkidu groaned and lifted their head out from under the sheets. A shadow cut across the doorway. Shamhat. “Can he wait a little longer?”

“Can you get dressed?”

Seven minutes and Enkidu was out the door, in no small part due to Shamhat’s help. Their new hiking boots (courtesy of Gilgamesh of course) pinched at their heels. Shamhat pushed them into the back of the waiting car. Their face made unpleasant contact with Gilgamesh’s shoulder. He pushed them back, but Shamhat had closed the door behind them.

“I know that you usually wake much earlier than this,” Gilgamesh noted.

The seats in the front of the car vibrated with the force of Enkidu’s flailing limbs as they struggled to right themselves. They were still strapping their seatbelt on when the driver merged back into traffic. “Couldn’t sleep.”

A neck pillow hit their arm. It took several tries to get it hooked behind their head.

“Get some rest. It will be inconvenient if you become exhausted before night.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Enkidu tucked their head against his shoulder and closed their eyes.

 

Consciousness returned slowly. The first thing they noticed was that the noise of the city had been replaced with the pleasant hum of the woods. The second was that the car was stopped. They’d arrived. Enkidu drifted upright and blinked at Gilgamesh. His eyes were closed; apparently, he’d fallen asleep too. The driver up front was not. His phone sat blinking a low battery in the cup holder.

Enkidu leaned up and blew into Gilgamesh’s ear.

He jolted upright with a yell.

They burst out laughing.

He cuffed them across the shoulder.

Two backpacks were only just enough to carry their equipment. Enkidu’d spent weeks talking Gilgamesh down item by item until they only had the bare necessities. He, in turn, had convinced them that they _did_ need a satellite phone and some flares in case their memory couldn’t be trusted.

The river from their childhood seemed smaller now.  Gilgamesh stopped beside it, in the border between road and forest, and looked about. Enkidu, already among the trees, looked back. “Are you chickening out on me?”

“Me? Afraid of a little dirt?” he scoffed.

It was quite a lot of dirt.

It took nearly an hour for them both to adjust to walking across uneven ground; Gilgamesh more-so than Enkidu. As the day wore on, their pace increased. By the time night fell, Enkidu estimated that they were about halfway to their destination.

Enkidu built and started a fire while Gilgamesh fought to assemble their tent. They joined him once the blaze was roaring bright.

Dinner was a pair of sandwiches Shamhat had packed the night before, and a bottle of water each. They settled side by side in the dirt. Both Gilgamesh’s khakis and Enkidu’s worn jeans were hopelessly dirty. When the food was gone, Enkidu dropped their weight against Gilgamesh’s shoulder and stared into the embers of the fading fire. “Hey. Thanks for coming with.”

“Of course. It is only natural that I would be curious about where you were raised.”

“Raised is a strong word for it,” Enkidu groaned. They closed their eyes, relaxing limb by limb. “I don’t know if she even thought I’d live this long.” The words felt funny in their mouth, like an old locked room spitting out ghosts.

Gilgamesh did not ask any further questions.

Just as the noises of the forest started to fade with their consciousness, he pulled them back into their tent. They fell asleep with their sleeping bags pushed close together and Enkidu dreamed of nothing important.

\--

The cabin seemed smaller. Less intact. With accumulated experience, Enkidu recognized that it was not the wonder they’d once thought. Aluminum flashing hung at inconsiderate angles across the roof to block out a procession of leaks. A fallen branch jutted out between two of them. The walls were more  holes than not. Enkidu was certain that the mold had not been that bad at least, but now it ate away at the wood.

Enkidu held back as Gilgamesh shifted his weight onto the creaking stairs.

He cut an impressive figure. Despite the dirt, his hair glowed gold in the setting sun. The picture of modernity framed against a cabin stuck in the past. Their heartbeat stuttered. Was this what he saw when he looked at them?

“Enkidu! I was under the impression that you were going to show me this place?”

They gathered themself piece by piece and found that very few of them were buried under the forest floor.

The cabin groaned under their combined weight. Inside was a single room. Enkidu swept their eyes around the room but refused to let them linger. Against the eastern wall was a pile of bones, leftover from meals over a decade past. The western wall was a pile of ratty sheets they’d used as bedding. A single table, plywood propped up by rocks, held a metal pot and several rusty knives of varying size. Tucked under it was a rotting suitcase tucked full of clothes several decades out of date.

Gilgamesh huffed, loud in the muted room. “Is this all?” His voice was difficult to distinguish, nose and mouth tucked behind his sleeve.

Enkidu couldn’t help but laugh. “There’s an outhouse out back. Or more like… a hole with a roof over it.” They leaned over so they could catch his grimace. “Want to get out of here?”

“I have seen all that I need to see.”

They grinned and looped their arm through his, tugging him back out through the door. The boards did not creak as loud on their way back out, like they’d left a little bit of weight behind.

Fading light made setting up the tent difficult, and the flickering fire Enkidu built hardly helped. But they managed to get it up before the sun fully set.

“You don’t want to sleep in the cabin?” Gilgamesh inquired, as Enkidu rolled their sleeping bag across the lumpy floor of the tent.

They shook their head. “I think I’ll be more comfortable here.”

“As if the ground could be more comfortable than a wooden floor.”

“But it’s not like you’ll be there with me,” Enkidu observed. On impulse, they grabbed his wrist and yanked him down cursing. It earned them a half-hearted punch. They tussled for a bit, threatening to topple the tent. But unlike their first fight, every other blow was followed by laughter and taunts. Gilgamesh, with his superior strength, had the advantage in close quarters. He managed to pin them to the ground, but not without another set of bruises he’d have to explain to Siduri come Monday.

Enkidu’s hands pressed up against his chest, tapping without their previous force. He rolled off and onto his own sleeping bag.

“… You are incorrigible.”

“People keep telling me that.” Enkidu settled back into their sleeping bag and watched the electric lantern swing above them. Cicadas sang as they caught their breath, lying side by side, the only humans for miles around.

Warmth bubbled up in Enkidu’s chest, igniting an echo in the green and gold on their back. They reached out, fumbling for Gilgamesh’s hand. They hit his chest. Then his shoulder. Finally, he reached up and closed his fingers around theirs.

“Hey,” Enkidu whispered. “You’re kind of an asshole.”

“I hadn’t been informed,” Gilgamesh replied, voice dry.

“Shh. I’m not done.”

He went quiet.

Enkidu rolled up the warmth in their chest took in a breath. “You’re an asshole and I like you,” they said. “A lot.”

“A confession already?” Gilgamesh asked, echoing their words from the diner. His tone was light, but Enkidu could feel the way his hand shifted in theirs.

“Yeah.”

Rather than respond with words, Gilgamesh pulled Enkidu in close and they went willingly, grin never leaving their face.

\--

Back behind the cabin there was a raised patch of grass marked by a river-smooth stone. Enkidu and Gilgamesh stood side by side before it, fingers laced together. A ring of blue flowers dangled from Enkidu’s free hand, plucked from an overgrown garden. They slipped down to their knees and laid the crown on top of the stone.

“Are you done?”

Enkidu smiled up at Gilgamesh, soft and fond. “In a hurry?”

“No more or less than usual.”

They pushed themself to their feet and hooked an arm under his. “Back to civilization?”

“Back to civilization.”

And the trees swallowed them both.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for sticking with me. 
> 
> This is the longest fic I've written in.... A lot time. Possibly ever? And it would not have been possible without all of your support. I'm not really sure how to adequately express my gratitude. 
> 
> I'm pretty rusty at writing, (and I was never good at writing romance of any kind) but I hope that this is a somewhat-satisfactory ending!
> 
> (I know this ended up focusing more on Enkidu's problems than Gilgamesh's. I guess it just ended up that way. I hope this didn't bother anyone too much!)


End file.
